The feet of people walking home
With gayer sandals go —
The Crocus — til she rises
The Vassal of the snow —
The lips at Hallelujah
Long years of practise bore
Til bye and bye these Bargemen
Walked singing on the shore.
Pearls are the Diver’s farthings
Extorted from the Sea —
Pinions — the Seraph’s wagon
Pedestrian once — as we —
Night is the morning’s Canvas
Larceny — legacy —
Death, but our rapt attention
To Immortality.
My figures fail to tell me
How far the Village lies —
Whose peasants are the Angels —
Whose Cantons dot the skies —
My Classics veil their faces —
My faith that Dark adores —
Which from its solemn abbeys
Such ressurection pours.
Earthly life teaches us that this life is a term of servitude that will be replaced in the next by a joyous fruition.
I just discovered this site and really read this poem for the first time. I always stopped somewhere around the second stanza. Boo for me! It’s a fascinating poem. Isn’t it great for backing us up to see importance in terms of its context; i.e. the “canvas” of night for “morning.” Gorgeous. I wonder how many other things I can “re-see” that way.
This poem is the damn stupidest thing i have ever read and i read a lot! Plus i do not say stupid lightly!
This great poem by Dickinson means that life is so great that people keep walking after death. In a town of angels-peasants, we will awake and walk towards the horizon of childhood again. Regards from Spain, Emily.
José Luis
“he jus keeps movin’ along. Time and tide wait for no man (or woman), but, ah!, man keeps up!